


Sensus Divinitatis

by Gallahad



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Biblical References, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Rating May Change, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallahad/pseuds/Gallahad
Summary: “Love is a complicated thing. You are better off without it.”Belial would know, more than anyone else.





	Sensus Divinitatis

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to post the whole thing into a single oneshot but I drank dumb bitch juice and this is becoming too long not to be separated into chapters.

It was just a fun little thing to pass the time.

Not even that entertaining, at first.

Truth is, Belial had no idea what caught his eyes in the first place. Because Sariel, as powerful as he is, as much fear he is able to instill into his foes, is incredibly tame and irremediably _simple_.

Yet he could not deny that something managed to hold his attention.

It started from a jest and a smile. From his part, of course. Sariel was never programmed to smile.

“Emotions are unnecessary,” Lucilius told him once to justify this, after coming with the idea of the limiter. And it might have been the only time Belial disagreed with him.

After all, he told himself, how could he love Lucilius without them. How could he throw everything away for him, how could he feel that deep longing, proving him he was alive.

What form this love could take, it never mattered. Because he was feeling it, always.

_More often than not, it hurt._

_He never minded._

But Lucilius, him, never loved.

Oh, he had  _passion_ , of course.  _Attachment_ even. To his researches. To his goals. To knowledge. Even to some of his creations, to some extent. But ultimately, they were only means to his end.

Michael. Raphaël. Uriel. Sariel. Himself. Everyone. Nothing more than stepstones for a man trying to achieve what even a god refused to do.

And it was so bright, watching him from the bottom of the pit.

Lucilius was blazing to Belial. In every way. From the fierce fury of his obsession to the coldness of his neutral eyes. From the light, blonde hair shimmering under a ray of sunshine to the pallor of his gloveless fingers turning pages from a book.

He was a flame that would burn them all and the angel of depravity was eager to be set on fire.

Sariel, on the other hand, was similar to the shadows.

If Lucilius was the sun, wearing a divine halo of light, Sariel was a void. Expressionless and silent. A good soldier, listening to orders. Nothing like Lucilius’ brilliance.

In insight, maybe it was why Belial got enraptured by him.

That, or the way his unnaturally long hair would sometime catch and reflect the light, trapping in its hues that same gold Belial always struggled to catch for himself.

It is not exactly what he was craving for, but it was close enough, he would say to himself as his hand ran against the silky black hair.

“Deputy head?”

Sariel’s voice is, for once, bordering on emotions. They were there, buried somewhere under the surface, trying to break out and struggling to do so. He looks confused - which is not as novel and special as the tremor in his voice, because truth be told, Sariel often looked confused. Lost, like a moth without a flame.

And Belial hums, airy, not paying attention. His mind is somewhere else. Trying to wrap itself around a shred of explanation, about why he would feel the same anguish as the times he would wake up from a dream in which Lucilius’ soul was finally his.

How two things so opposite could make him feel the same pang in his heart.

His hand leaves the soft hair. Lands on a cold cheek instead, and gently runs its thumb around the pale skin.

Sariel is tall. Taller than Lucifer, Lucilius, and everyone else, really. Even with his signature hunched over posture, that makes him look like the burden of still keeping shreds of emotions was too much for his shoulders.

Yet this time, Belial looks at him from above. And as the executioner stares at him, frozen in his place, not daring to move from the lab chair - just a regular check-up, nothing else - Belial enjoys the prospect of towering over someone as deadly as Sariel.

He wonders if that is also how Lucilius looks at him when his genius mind is lost in spheres none of them can fathom.

“Deputy head.” This time, the name sounds softer and more comfortable. Belial can feel the angel’s face shift and press lightly against the palm of his hand. As if Sariel wanted to seek reassurance from his warmth.

Of all the times Belial let himself touch the angel before  _(a finger putting a strand of hair in place. A casual lift of a wing during an examination. Plucking a dirty feather. Kissing his forehead on an impulse, when everything was too much)_ , it is the first time it happens.

Sariel, for all his battle genius, was very much like a child at times. A lone, silent, passive child, victim of his failing limiter.

Responding to display of affection or external inputs was a rare sight.

The first though Belial has is that he will have to inform Lucilius about this change in Sariel’s behavior.

The second is that he does not wish to.

_The third is that he wants to test just how much of an obedient pawn Sariel is._

He refrains himself, and his lips curve into a smile.

“Deputy Head, I… Think I love you.”

And the smile widens, widens, but never reaches his eyes, hiding curiosity. The confession is not surprising. Wasn’t Belial the only one around here to offers Sariel some sort of guidance? Significance? Attention? Any lonely soul would be quick to launch itself at the nearest island of affection thrown its way, as small as it was.

“No, you don’t.” The smile. A half laugh. A light pat on Sariel’s cheek. “Not in the way you think you do.”

Sariel doesn’t look shocked nor surprised by the rebuttal, not even sad. And it makes sense, in a way, if he doesn’t understand the weight of his words.

“Do you even know what love truly is, or did you simply overheard someone else?”

_(Sariel doesn’t know what is stopping him but he cannot admit he heard the word from Belial himself, one night when he wanted to report to Lucilius and overheard a conversation that was not meant for his ears)_

And Belial, Belial, Belial actually didn’t care that much if Sariel’s love was a counterfeit, misunderstood one. Would not mind going for a forgery as a substitute for the love Lucilius would never give him. But somehow, this time, it doesn’t feel right. The words coming out of his mouth don’t tempt with cunning promises. Instead, they rang quiet and simple - and it seems like Sariel is the only one with whom Belial can speak this way.

“Love is a complicated thing. You are better off without it.”

_Trust me._

_(And Sariel does, because the Deputy Head is kind to him. He listens to him and even does his best to avoid sending Sariel on missions he doesn’t like._

_And every time Sariel doesn’t want to go see the anthills alone, he comes with him. Never looks bored despite the hours spending there in silence together. Sometimes, the Deputy Head asks rhetorical questions that are a little too complicated for Sariel, but he never sounds disappointed when the executioner tries to answer them nonetheless._

_When they are at the anthills, the Deputy Head always looks happy and peaceful._

_Right now, he is smiling, but it looks kind of sad. Sariel doesn’t like it.)_

“Will you come with me?” asks Sariel suddenly, and it makes Belial hum, questioning. He is used to Sariel’s mind jumping from one topic to another, but it still takes him a little time to understand what the other angel means this time.

“The ants?” Belial huffs a laugh.

Sariel nods. He closes his eyes, rubbing once again his face against the hand that never abandoned him, still petting absentmindedly his hair and caressing his cheek. “The ants. I like watching them. But if it’s with you, I like it even better.”

Then, it finally hits Belial. What has been puzzling his mind for so long. Why the tiny flame that was Sariel managed to capture his attention so much, despite being blinded by Lucilius’ light.

Sariel was everything Lucilius was not.

Lucilius was a cathedral. Divine and bigger than life. Grand and feared, despite the aloof facade. A soft-looking exterior, promise of warm candles, gold adornments and colorful stained glass. But leaving only an immaculate altar with a lone, heartless icon lying on it, indifferent to both the cold and the prayers of his devotees.

But Sariel? Sariel was nothing like that. Sariel’s mind, body, soul, they were all akin to a small, untouched and lonely temple. Never sullied but also never fit for any followers, cast in shadows.

A meager, unimportant temple, frozen in time on the surface but brimming with genuine concern and kindness at its core.

It was ironic, really. Kind of sad also, that the angel of execution, feared by every foe, was nothing more than a lost lamb too kind for his own good.

“How could I refuse anything to you, Sariel?”

Sariel smiles. Soft and a little unnatural, his face so not accustomed to it. But oh, how sincere and pretty it looks.

Belial would never revere nor adore him as he did Lucilius. But it was the only thing he would not taint.

**Author's Note:**

> Ever realized how the WMTSB bunch pre-rebellion is basically a pining chain  
> Sariel > Belial > Lucilius > Lucifer > Sandalphon > self-love & acceptance  
> Yeah  
>  ~~Now you know what to expect from the next chapters.~~


End file.
